Irises and Corn Poppies
by RoseMatoBird
Summary: Paris has one parent that teaches her manners and magic, while her other parent teaches her style and the art of l'amour. Warsaw has one parent that's overprotective, and one that convinces her to take up crossdressing. How can capitals from such different families come to be best of friends? Contains mpreg, yuri, and crack OCs. Reviews are much appreciated
1. Prologue

_~Paris's POV~_

* * *

"…France, I don't like this." A sharply-dressed Englishman fiddled uneasily with his tie, unhappy with the decision of the taller man to his right.

"Ah, but mon darling Angleterre, it iz only for ze day! Everyzing will work out just fine," insisted the Frenchman, a smile as bright as his outfit on his face. He reassuringly wrapped his arm around the Englishman's shoulders, planting a kiss atop his shaggy blonde hair. He received a poisonous glare in return.

These two men- Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy, or England and France- had quite a history behind them. They'd been at odds their whole lives, despite occasional moments where they could almost be considered friendly. France was a playful flirt; England was, well… England was England: a self-proclaimed gentleman with a stubborn personality. He bitterly admired the older man, even going so far as to attempt to copy France's looks. It was hard for him to determine which was worse: being jealous of that French pervert, or looking up to him. There was something about their conflicting personas that caused getting in scraps- both physical and verbal- was as common for them as walking.

Yet somewhere along the line, a change occurred. While England realized how deep his admiration for France truly was, France acknowledged that his flirting with England felt more realistic than with anyone else. Amidst one of their usual pointless arguments, they shared a heated kiss out of the blue. Their eyes bore into each other for a second afterwards before they resumed spitting insults at one another, this time much more fiercely. But the next day, when they confronted each other about the kiss… Well, let's just say a certain Englishman lost his virginity at the time.

Naturally, they still fought, though much more mildly and it always ended in a kiss. After dating (secretly- England refused to let news of his affection for "the frog" go public) for a little over a year, some sort of magic or science or God-only-knows-what allowed for England to come up with a positive pregnancy test. Once he got all the hysterical laughter out of his system, France immediately jumped to ask for England's hand in marriage.

A beautiful baby girl was born to the couple, wisps of curly blonde hair already on her little head. Her parents were wed about two months after her birth. England had demanded that the wedding be private, and that neither of the grooms wore a dress; France accepted, but on one condition: they would announce their relationship at the next world meeting. After all, everyone was surely curious as to why England had been missing for over 5 months.

Their love story isn't currently the main point, though. What matters is that they were dropping their daughter, currently 5 years old, off at a Hungarian day care so they could spend their anniversary together. And this is where I come in.

"Alright, mon ange… Be good for Ms. Hungary, oui? Try to get along wiz everyone, and remember zat Daddy and I will be back to take you 'ome at 6:00," Papa- that's what I call France- crooned, scooping me into his arms. Giggling, I pressed a kiss against Papa's chin stubble as he ran a gloved hand affectionately over the top of my wavy hair. See, my curls reduced to waves thanks to Papa's excessive brushing. I'm not complaining, though.

I flashed my sweetest, cutest face at Daddy; a smile immediately cracked the partial scowl on his face. "Just as Papa said. Be a good girl… I love you, Paris." My shorter father gingerly planted a lengthy kiss on my forehead.

"I know, I'll be'ave my very bestest! Je t'aime aussi, Daddy." I think my inheritance of Papa's accent and passion for using his language used to get on Daddy's nerves, but if it did, he's over it now. Mostly.

With Papa holding my left hand and Daddy holding my right, we entered the day care- a cute little one story schoolhouse type building. We were immediately greeted by a smiling woman in an old style dress. "You're Paris, I presume?" she confirmed in an affectionate tone, bending over to get a better look at me. I nodded and slipped my hand away from Papa's so I could wave at Ms. Hungary with my fingers.

"We'll miss you, love," Daddy reminded me before telling Ms. Hungary when they'd be back to retrieve me. Papa occupied himself by whistling over his shoulder; apparently he and Ms. Hungary weren't exactly friendly.

After exchanging more good-bye hugs and kisses, Papa and Daddy finally left to go do whatever couples do on their anniversary. "You're allowed to play with anything here, as long as you share," Ms. Hungary told me, the gentle smile still on her face. I nodded, and walked a little further into the carpeted room.

My eyes drifted around, taking in everything I saw: the shelves lined with thin books; tables covered in paper, materials for coloring, and remnants of snacks that hadn't yet been thrown away; baskets upon baskets of toys; colorful decorations of cutesy animals, rainbows, flowers, and butterflies all over the walls… But my deep blue eyes rested on a boy playing with something in one corner of the room. His slightly-shaggy brown hair was cut just below his ears, a little longer in the front so as to perfectly frame his face. He was wearing a t-shirt that had to belong to his dad or an older brother, because it was much too big for him and almost completely covered his cargo shorts. Even if I could only see him from a side angle, I knew he was super cute. Heart hammering excitedly, I drew up courage, fluffed my hair a bit just as Papa showed me to, and strode over in his direction.

"Bonjour! Je m'appelle, um, I mean, my name is Paris," I told him with my best smile, smoothing out the front of my velvety dress and sitting on my knees behind the boy. He glanced over his shoulder and flashed a toothy smile; _wow _his teeth were white.

I always hear Papa complimenting Daddy on how beautiful his eyes are, so I decided to steal a brief gaze into this boy's eyes. Maybe if I thought they were beautiful, we could fall in love! So, I looked into his eyes… and my smile immediately dropped off of my face. I admit, they were a gorgeous shade of emerald green, but something was off. Something was _wrong. _Red flags shot up in my head.

"Labas, Paris! I'm Varsaw." The high pitch of the boy's voice confirmed my sudden suspicion: this boy was a girl. I glanced down toward her knees. She wasn't playing with toy cars or trucks as I had thought she would be when I came over there… In both hands, she held a plastic pony with a colored body and multicolored mane and tail. She offered me a blue one with a picture of a rainbow on its flank. "Wanna play My Little Ponies?"

And that's how I met my best friend.


	2. Chapter 1

_**The first legitimate chapter, which is once again in the POV of Paris. **_

* * *

I don't even know how long I had been sitting atop the back of the couch in my grand living room, staring out the picture window that supplied a view of the driveway. This was the first time Warsaw was coming over for a playdate, and I was just itching to see her. We'd been apart for a whole _week! _I'd never really made friends with kids my age- Daddy didn't let me interact with citizens- so I was trying to leech this whole "friendship" thing for all it was worth. If we didn't hang out as much as possible, what if Warsaw didn't want to be my friend anymore? I really liked having a best friend. I couldn't let that slip away.

"Paris, love, when is Warsaw coming over?" asked Daddy, stepping out of the kitchen with one hand gently grasping the handle of a teacup, the other supporting a tiny plate beneath it.

"She said she'd be 'ere in cinq minutes," I grumbled, my eyes still glued to the driveway.

"In that case, I'll go make some cookies for you girls," Daddy offered with a slight smile. He used to try to give me these big bright smiles; however, ever since I was a baby I would burst into tears because happy smiles weren't really his thing and they'd come out looking sort of terrifying.

"Don't, s'il vous plaît. I want Warsaw to _like _coming 'ere." I didn't mean to be bitter, but I was getting way too anxious and it was beginning to chip away at my mood.

I heard Papa laugh from in the kitchen. "No need to worry, mon chérie. _I'll_ make you snacks," he called. Daddy shot him a glare and plopped himself irritably in his armchair.

The sound of car tires rolling over gravel in the driveway caused me to snap my head in the direction of the window like a Golden Retriever who'd heard its name be called. I inhaled an airy gasp, falling backward onto the couch cushion in my excitement. Before Daddy could even ask if I was alright, I rolled onto my feet (as unladylike as the action was) and bolted to the front of the house as I heard a car door close outside. It seemed improbable that I'd be able to stop grinning anytime soon, even if my heart was nervously beating a mile a minute. I smoothed out the front of my dress at least 10 times, running both hands over my hair and sticking any stray strands back where they belonged. I twisted the brass doorknob literally the very second the doorbell chimed throughout the house.

"Bonjour, Warsaw! Bonjour, Mr. Lizuania!" I had met Warsaw's father- Lithuania- twice: when he picked her up from daycare that one day, and when I went over her house about a week prior to this. He's a handsome man, with his blue-green eyes and longish brown hair. He has to have a fantastic heart, being able to put up with his husband: a blonde, aloof country named Poland who talks like a valley girl and was in women's clothing both times that I saw him. There's only one bad thing I can say about Mr. Lithuania, and that's that he worries. A _lot. _When Papa was 8 minutes late to pick me up from my first playdate with Warsaw, Mr. Lithuania actually almost called the police.

"Paris, hi! I haven't seen you in like, a _long _time," Warsaw gasped, hopping inside and immediately embracing me in a tight hug. Giggling, I returned the embrace. I was so caught up in seeing my best friend again that I didn't even notice Daddy approach us.

"When will you be back to pick her up?" he addressed Mr. Lithuania.

"3:30, I told her… Thank you for having her," Mr. Lithuania responded, his eyes darting nervously around every corner of the house that was currently visible. Knowing him, he was probably looking for anything that could hurt Warsaw. Or any Russians.

Daddy briefly attempted to smile. "Oh, no, it's my pleasure. Paris really enjoys having her…"

Mr. Lithuania nodded almost uncertainly. He rested a hand on Warsaw's head. "Be good, okay, sveetheart? Please don't be too much trouble."

Warsaw, still hugging onto me, rolled her eyes and grinned widely up at her father. "_Seriously, _Tėtis! It's almost like you don't _trust _me."

A tired smile twitched onto Mr. Lithuania's face. "You know I trust you… I should be going now. Aš tave myliu."

After responding "I love you too" in Lithuanian, Warsaw gave her dad a quick hug before he hesitantly walked out the door. Warsaw waved at him nonchalantly until his car disappeared out of sight. "So, like, vhat are ve gonna do?" Warsaw questioned immediately, practically bouncing with giddiness. I was glad to see she felt the same way as I did.

"Well, Papa iz making some sort of snack for us, so we can eat zose, and zen I was zinking we could go up to mon room and play wiz dolls. After zat, we could watch some My Little Pony," I explained, hoping my plans weren't too dull. Luckily, Warsaw looked positively ecstatic about it and gave multiple nods to her head.

"Ah, little Miss Warsaw… So we meet again. 'Ow are you, sweet'eart?" Papa crooned, sliding out of the kitchen. I could almost feel my mouth begin to water as I took note of the cookies piled high on a silver platter balanced in Papa's left hand.

"Well don't _flirt _with the child, bloody frog," Daddy muttered, not even glancing at his husband as he stormed right past him into the kitchen.

"Vhat's _his _problem?" Warsaw pondered under her breath into my ear.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure… 'E's been acting like zat on and off lately," I told her in an equally hushed tone. Warsaw just shrugged and plopped down on the couch, licking her lips slightly as she observed the plate Papa set down on the coffee table. Daddy soon returned in the room, setting two glasses of milk on each side of the platter and kissing me on the head before retreating to his chair again. Talk about bipolar…

I opened my eyes from a blink to see Warsaw had already plucked a cookie off the top of the stack and flinched as her skin was burned slightly upon the contact. "Zey _just _came out of ze oven," I giggled, waggling a finger at my friend. She just furrowed her eyebrows together and picked the cookie back up, dunking the whole thing in her glass before taking a huge bite. She instantaneously groaned in pleasure.

"These are _so totally good… _Vhat flavor are these?" she asked, her mouth still full. I scrunched up my nose in disgust at her lack of manners. There she was, shamelessly chomping away at her snack while wearing sneakers, a football jersey, and what looked like boxers, as I- wearing a lavender dress made of pure silk- delicately blew off a cookie, dipped the tip in milk, and took a gentle bite. Could we be any more different?

"Lemon oatmeal. Zey are delectable, non?" Papa answered, carefully seating himself on the arm of Daddy's chair. That right there told me something was up: Daddy _never _let Papa sit there, unless he was in an exceptionally good mood, and he seemed to currently be experiencing a sour temper. Not to mention I figured my parents would want to do their own thing as opposed to hang out around me and Warsaw….

"Is somezing going on?" I inquired before Warsaw could keep ranting about some sort of cookie her "tatuś" makes her. Yes, it was rude to interrupt Warsaw, but it was really for the better since she probably would have ended up choking from chatting with her mouth full. My parents exchanged a glance before returning their gazes to me.

"I didn't want to tell you until you were alone, but your father," Daddy shot a quick glare at Papa, "insisted we tell you as soon as possible."

I froze, setting my half of a cookie back down on the table and averting my full attention to my parents. Warsaw, on the other hand, continued to munch away on cookie after cookie while glancing at Papa and Daddy with a raised eyebrow. It annoyed me at first, but after a few seconds it just provided me with the desire to giggle and hug Warsaw affectionately. I _liked _people that were so different from me.

"Paris, mon cher…" Papa wrapped one arm around Daddy's shoulders. "Ze reason why Daddy 'as been acting funny and getting sick lately is because…"

Even though Papa drew in a deep breath, Daddy finished for him: "I'm pregnant, love."

"Daddy iz 'aving anozzer baby," Papa added, in case I didn't know what "pregnant" meant.

Here's the thing about us countries (well, _capitals _in my case). I'm not going to say we're _smarter _than humans- I mean, just look at dunces like America. It's more like, we're wired to process and learn things better earlier on. For instance, a country or city with a physical age of 5 will have the same mental ability as an average 10 year old human. That being said, I fully understood what this meant: for the next few months, Daddy and Papa would be busy and probably not able to pay as much attention to me; Daddy would end up getting fatter; people would question how a man got pregnant, and my parents would have to explain how anything is possible for nations; I'd be a big sister; there would be another child in the house, who would be my and only my sibling…

I could just feel my eyes shimmering with joy. "Oh… Magnifique! Super! Papa, Daddy, _congratulations!" _I breathed, clasping my hands together in front of my chest. Soft smiles appeared on both of my parents' faces.

"I'm glad you're taking this so well," Daddy murmured, absently leaning his head into Papa's chest.

Warsaw chugged down more than half her milk, having almost choked on a cookie with Daddy's announcement. "Vhoa… _Paris! _You're like, totally gonna hawe a little broski or siostra! That's so totally… _Vhoa!" _She whipped her head around to look at my parents. "Good job!" She gave them a thumbs-up; they both chuckled and thanked her.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The rest of the playdate went exactly as planned. We demolished the cookies, all except for 5 (Daddy got a kick out of the fact that I told Papa he can't have any, since Daddy was pregnant and deserved them way more). After putting our glasses in the kitchen sink, I led Warsaw up to my room so we could play with my vast collection of dolls. As inspired by what had just happened, I played with the two sister dolls and Warsaw played with a couple of blonde male dolls.

When we got tired of playing out how my life would be with a little sister (halfway through, we transitioned into what it would be like with a little _brother), _Papa helped me put in the My Little Pony DVD that Mr. America had bought me for my fifth birthday. We watched the whole season, pausing every once in a while to talk about anything that popped into our heads, until the doorbell rang at precisely 3:30 and Warsaw had to leave. We hugged, promising to see each other soon, and then Warsaw was gone, saying something about wanting a baby brother or sister to Mr. Lithuania.

"Daddy, are you really 'aving a baby…?" I murmured, unaware until now of how tired I was. Daddy set down the newspaper he was reading, smiling warmly at me.

"Of course. I wouldn't joke about something like that." Bobbing my head slightly, I crawled up onto my father's lap and cuddled against his chest. As Daddy slowly stroked my hair over and over, using the gentlest of touches, I felt as if I could fall asleep right then and there.

"When ze new bébé comes… Will you and Papa still love moi?"

"Why wouldn't we? …Well, as long as you try to love your little sibling."

My eyelids fluttered closed, and my fingers curled into the fabric of Daddy's casual dress shirt. "'Try'? Daddy, I love ze bébé already."


	3. Chapter 2

_~Warsaw's POV~_

"Heeeey, Tetis?" I asked in the car on the way home. I kicked my legs, which dangled from my booster seat I sat in, and grinned. Tetis looked at me through the rearview mirror, smiling slightly.

"Yes?"

"Vell…I vas thinking. Can I have a baby sibling?" Tetis cleared his throat awkwardly, looked back at the road, and didn't answer me. I pursed my lips and furrowed my eyebrows together; Like, really. Why didn't he ever just answer me when I asked that question? "But Paris's daddy is having a baby, so vhy can't Tatus?"

"Ve've discussed this, aguona. Tatus can't have any more children." Then I did something incredibly stupid. I asked if he could have children. Hah. As if.

I saw him blush from his reflection in the rearview mirror, which made me giggle. He was always so blushy and stuff when it came to things like this. My green eyes shone deviously, knowing that if I tried hard enough, he could be easy to take advantage of. "Teeeetis, I'm lonely vithout a sibling." He pulled into our driveway and I unbuckled quickly, wrapping my arms and legs around his left leg, gripping onto him like a koala on a tree. He dragged me along, slowly but surely making his way to the front door of our house. When we got in there, I saw Tatus lying on the couch upside down, blonde hair touching the floor.

"Like, hey Liet." He said, sliding down onto the floor so when Tetis walked over, he was looking up at him from the ground. I waved at him, and in turn he poked my nose, getting to his feet. "So what are you doing on Liet's leg?"

"Rebelling," I said with a small smile.

"Rebelling? Oh. So, like, no My Little Ponies for you…" Tatus said, a cocky grin on his face. I detached myself from Tatus's leg and instead sat on the couch, crossing my legs.

"Tatus, vhy can't you have any more babies? I kinda, like, vant a sibling." Tetis bit his lip, shuffling over to sit next to me.

Neither of them answered my question.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

All week it had been like that. I would ask them that dreaded question, they would remain silent (which, for Tatus, was scary). So instead of making myself useful, I had locked myself in my room nearly every day in protest and sit there on my bed.

I didn't understand the…process of having children at my age; I had only known that the baby would be in Tatus's stomach, and that he'd have to go to the hospital for a few days. I also didn't know that after me, Tetis and Tatus weren't able to have children.

They would often talk about it, and sometimes at night I could hear Tatus through the walls begging Tetis–"Just one more try!"—and then I would hear…things. Those were the nights when I couldn't get to sleep; I would worry too much about them. What were they doing that hurt them so much? (I later learned the details. I was pretty much scarred for life) Sometimes, when these sounds weren't present, I would sneak into my parents' room and cuddle up between them. I was worried; can't blame me.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

One day a few months after Paris's daddy had shared the news of being pregnant, I had gone over to Paris's house for the first time to have a sleepover. We greeted each other with hugs and she kissed me on the cheek (Tetis tensed up), and I said good-bye to Tetis as we trotted up the stairs.

I searched through Paris's closet, grimacing when I found that pretty much everything she had was a dress. "Vhy don't you have any shorts?" I muttered to myself as Paris sat on her bed, pulling a brush through her golden curls.

"Daddy and Papa raised moi to be a little lady, so…" She said, pursing her lips. As an oblivious little toddler, I didn't take that to be offensive.

"Vhen the baby is born, I'm going to dress it up in clothes like mine, 'kay?" Paris paused while brushing her hair, staring at me with horror.

"Maybe…maybe if your parents 'ad anozzer bébé…zen you could dress 'im or 'er up," She muttered, "But s'il vous plait. Don't dress mon bébé sibling up." I flapped my hand, smiling.

"I vas kidding, anyvay." Days like these were when I admit, I annoyed myself. I chuckled at the thought, simply grinning while I watched Paris pull the brush through her golden curls once more.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

At that age, I knew I was stubborn. I wouldn't give up on anything. So even when I came home and had my daily snack of paluszki, Tetis had cleaned the house, and Tatus took care of our horses, I still nagged them about a little sibling.

I do think the best one was when I secretly climbed into bed with them, then popped up between them when they were leaning in for their good night kiss shouting, "SIBLING!" Then they sent me off to my own bed. I knew it! They were calling Mr. Stork the minute I left!

Yeah, that wasn't the case. In fact, when I left, Tetis consulted Tatus about my…"problem". It wasn't a problem, just a small obsession with wanting a sibling that I could totally rule over! She would like, love me forever, right?

That night I sat in my bed, hugging my stuffed pony to my chest. Was it really a problem? It couldn't be…But if Tetis said it was, then maybe it was! My gaze drifted over to the phone on my desk, and I quietly inched my way toward it. I dialed Paris's number and prayed she would answer. Luckily, she did. "Allo?" Her beautiful French accent came through the speaker. Is it normal to say that it made me melt inside?

"Sorry I'm calling so late…but I'm vorried."

"Mm, what is ze problem, mon cher?" I frowned. I knew from her tone of voice that she was either A) tired, or B) annoyed.

"Vell…Tetis says that I have a 'problem'. Apparently really vanting a sibling is not wery healthy. But vhy isn't it?" I wrapped the cord around finger.

"Oh…Warsaw, 'ow I wish I could 'ug you right now. It isn't always easy to 'ave children!" She sighed, lightly laughing.

"Vhy."

"…Well…zere's a, ah, process." Well this was news.

"Vhaaaaaat?" I said. "Since vhen?!"

"I'm not going into details."

"Okay, fine."

"But seriously, mon ami…you might want to lay off ze nagging." She told me. Ah…I could tell with her tone of voice that she was being serious.

"…Okay. Dobranoc."

"Bonne nuit, Warsaw." And with that she hung up. I shuffled back over to my bed. Why did talking to Paris always make me feel so much better? I once again cuddled my pony, but this time I actually fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 3

_~Paris's POV~_

I was completely ecstatic about Daddy and Papa having a baby. With a little sibling, this big house would feel less lonely; I'd have someone to dress up in all the adorable bows and dresses I had outgrown, and unlike my dolls, they could actually provide feedback; Papa and Daddy had lots of people that call them "Big Brother," which was apparently a good thing, and now I'd be called Big Sister; I could go shopping with my sister (I refused to accept that I could possibly have a brother), tell her stories, sing songs with her, and she could be best friends with Warsaw!

I didn't, however, immediately realize that this whole thing was not completely wonderful.

Oui, I knew that my parents wouldn't be able to spend as much time with me as usual, but I didn't acknowledge that I wasn't in control of when they could. I would stay up in my room for hours (which I never previously was able to stand, but I was willing to adapt to something new), occupying myself with things like reorganizing my dolls, experimenting with different nail polishes, singing while brushing my hair, and chatting with Warsaw over the phone. When I decided I had given Daddy and Papa enough away-from-Paris time, I'd slip out of my room and skip down the stairs.

Sometimes, both of my parents would just be relaxing in the living room, so they'd smile warmly and invite me to sit with them, maybe questioning my whereabouts for the past few hours. It was times like those that made me feel confident in my little system. It didn't always work out that way, though. I'd prance into the living room, only to find that it was empty people-wise. I'd pop my head into adjacent halls and see if any light was flooding out from under the bathroom door, but in most cases my parents weren't there. My searches would lead to finding them either busy in the kitchen or their studies; one time, I was met with a note pinned to the refrigerator saying that they had received no response when they called up to my room, so they had gone out for a while without me. Otherwise, I'd greet them with a hug or "Bonjour" and they'd _shoo me away!_

I simply could not grasp why that ever occurred. I'd given them plenty of time to be busy, so why did they have to be preoccupied when I was finally ready for them? I'd usually pout huffily and storm off to my bedroom when they ignored me, which was naïve of me seeing as I'd already exhausted everything there was to do there.

There was also the issue of finding babysitters. Daddy now had more appointments than ever, and until it got too noticeable that he was having a baby he still had to attend World Meetings with Papa. I later learned that sometimes they just sent me off to someone else's house when they didn't want to deal with me themselves; I gave them the silent treatment for a few days after that discovery.

Naturally, my first choice would have been Warsaw's house. Daddy and Papa, however, disagreed. They had nothing against Mr. Lithuania, but neither of them was overly fond with Mr. Poland. Not to mention I'd seen Papa visually shudder at the way Mr. Poland dresses Warsaw (I admit, I can't really blame him there). So the only times I was permitted to go over Warsaw's were when Daddy and Papa were busy at home. I guess I'm lucky that they allowed Warsaw to come to _my _house whenever.

Papa had two choices of babysitters for me: his best friends, Mr. Spain and Mr. Prussia. I really liked going to Mr. Spain's house. There was a constant smell of simmering spices in the air, the walls were all painted such bright and warm colors, it was fun watching Mr. Spain in his vast tomato gardens, and the churros he served were like sprinkles of happiness for my taste buds. Nonetheless, there was one problem: Mr. Spain's boyfriend didn't like me. He didn't like kids at all, come to think of it. I tried to be nice to Mr. Romano, but he always looked at me like I was some vermin!

When it came to feeling welcome, Mr. Prussia's house was much better. It wasn't very big, though I'd heard it was much better than his former residence (which was in his younger brother's basement). Still, it was a clean little place (even if it tended to reek like beer) and get this: he was dating Ms. Hungary! So although Daddy and Papa chose not to send me to daycare anymore, it was almost like I was still going. She's _so _nice, and Mr. Prussia's super funny, so visiting them was always fun… Except that Daddy didn't exactly trust Mr. Prussia with kids, and he fought with Ms. Hungary a _lot. _Thankfully they were just verbal arguments, not physical, but she did threaten him with a frying pan a few times and it was very uncomfortable.

There was one last person that Daddy reluctantly trusted me with, and that was Mr. America. Though, I call him _Uncle _America, since he's so much like a brother to Daddy. He's what you'd call a "dumb blonde," who laughs too much, acts like a 13 year old, and is way too loud; I love him. I really like his daughter, too. Las Vegas has this dirty blonde hair that falls straight down to her waist, though it's usually tied up somehow (I spend much of my visits styling her hair). She has the same twinkly blue eyes as her father, and is a little on the tan side thanks to her Guatemalan mother (I thought it was a fake tan when I first met her). Her wardrobe consists of old-fashioned pioneer style dresses that look like only dolls should be wearing them. A little strange if you ask me, but she likes it so I won't judge.

Uncle America's do-whatever-you-want method of parenting later turned Vegas into quite a different young lady, but you'll find that out later.

Moving on, Warsaw was a problem in herself. When Daddy was about 6 months gone, I got a call late at night from Warsaw. Didn't she know not to disturb a sleeping Parisian?! I couldn't just ignore her, though, so I answered. As it turned out, ever since we learned I was going to have a baby sibling, she'd been pestering _her _parents for one. Apparently, she didn't know there was a process behind creating babies… Poor innocent soul. I simply advised her to lay off her nagging, and hung up.

I tried to fall back to sleep, but now that was difficult. Warsaw's parents _couldn't _be pleased with her at all. I know I wouldn't be if I was in their position… I also know that I would punish a child for being so obnoxious. Warsaw was my best friend, _ever. _If she was disciplined, I'd feel her pain. I didn't want to feel pain! Oh, this was not a good situation at all…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It all ended up being worth it. The babysitting arrangements, the lack of spending time with my parents, the dolls and unfitting clothes I had to give up for the baby, Daddy's scary mood swings and disgusting food cravings, his new arguments with Papa… It was all worth it this one day.

Papa had dropped me along with a suitcase off at Uncle America's, saying he and Daddy had to go somewhere for a few days. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, and Daddy looked like he was extremely uncomfortable. When I saw their car disappear down Uncle America's long driveway, I felt as worried as Mr. Lithuania does about most things.

Sharing a room with Vegas and having Warsaw spend one of the nights with us barely did anything to lift my spirits. Daddy and Papa _never _left me for so long… Were they even going to come back? At the moment, my mood was lower than ever, since Warsaw and Vegas were bonding over their love for equestrians and walking Vegas's pony around the pasture. I could have come with them, oui, but do you know how _dirty _that would have been? So I sat on Uncle America's back porch, chin resting in my hands, watching them with jealousy gnawing away at my insides and feeling more miserable than ever.

That's when Uncle America stepped out onto the porch. He placed his hand atop my head, wearing an expression that mixed terror with utter excitement. "You ready to go for a ride, kiddo? Your daddies wanna see you." I sat bolt upright. It had been 3 days since I'd seen my parents- longer than I'd ever been away from them- and I was _more _than ready to be reunited with them.

"Oui…!" I breathed, scrambling to my feet and brushing off my skirt.

"Vegas, bro? I'm takin' Paris out for a bit. Don't give the maids any trouble, alright?" I briefly remembered an argument Daddy and Papa had previously held over whether or not _they _should hire maids, but I shot the memory down.

Vegas called something in response, then Uncle America took my hand and led me to his car.

The car ride was silent except for the modern music blaring from the radio, but inside my head it was practically a riot. My eager thoughts had begun to be overridden by negative ones. What if Papa and Daddy wanted to see me because something bad happened? What if this was the last time I'd see one or both of them? What if- oh, Warsaw's worrisome trait must have rubbed off on me.

My fears only multiplied when Uncle America pulled into the parking lot of a hospital. I clung to his arm, both because I was afraid of getting lost on the way into the massive building and my body felt too numb for me to walk on my own. I was vaguely aware of my non-biological uncle giving his name to a lady at the front desk and asking for Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy, and barely acknowledged the reassuring little squeeze he gave my hand as we proceeded to the elevator.

I didn't like the look of the long hallway we ended up in, and I liked the room we walked into even less. There was a human man in a lab coat, a human woman in scrubs, a bunch of scary machines, and… two very familiar blonde men. One was sitting up in a bed with a few bland pillows and a snow-white sheet, wearing a hospital gown and holding a bundle of fluffy pink blanket in his arms; the other was sitting on his bedside, his arm around the shorter man's shoulder, murmuring gently in French. Both looked exhausted, yet absolutely happy.

"Daddy…! Papa…!" I croaked, feeling like I hadn't spoken in months. My parents simultaneously looked toward me, and their already warm smiles deepened even further.

"Hello, love. Come meet your new sister," Daddy told me quietly. I tore my hand away from Uncle America's and dashed to Daddy's bedside, allowing Papa to pull me onto his lap. "Her name is Matilda Bonnefoy," Daddy indicated. He glanced at the humans and added in a whisper: "But we'll call her London."

I nodded slowly, feeling tears of joy well up in my eyes. "Can I see 'er…?" I asked quietly. Daddy gave a slight nod to his head and used his pointer finger to pull down the blanket, revealing the baby's face. I drew in an amazed breath. Her features were so delicate, so tiny; she looked just like a little doll, but _better. _Her mouth was open in the smallest of small _o _shapes, and I could just barely detect her slight breathing. I loved her already. "Oh, _mon dieu… _She's ADORABLE, Papa, Daddy! She's really my little sister?"

"Oui, mon cher. She's all ours," Papa assured me. I caressed London's cheek with one finger as delicately as possible, as if afraid I would break her. Her eyes fluttered slightly open upon my touch and I saw that she had Papa's blue eyes, just as I had Daddy's emerald ones.

"'Ow old is she?" I questioned as if I'd been separated from my family for years.

"A little more zan a day, but I 'aven't met 'er until now, since Daddy didn't wake up until zis morning and I wanted us to see 'er at ze same time," Papa explained, his eyes glued to his new daughter. I didn't ask why Daddy had been asleep for so long, and quite frankly I didn't care. All that mattered was this little bundle of joy swaddled in Daddy's arms.

"I hate to ruin your moment, but… This is the _perfect _photo op. May I?" interrupted Uncle America, shaking his iPhone slightly. I laughed, simply because it really was an intrusion yet it didn't feel like it. So I cuddled up to Papa, resting one hand beneath my baby sister, and with a _click _from Uncle America's phone the perfect moment was captured forever.

* * *

_**~Author's Note~**_

_You know how in the description, it says there are crack OCs in this? Yeah. I warned ya. See, I have a fan fiction on my main account that contains the canon version of Guatemala, but in ALL my other Hetalia stories with her (this one included), it's the crack version of her. I mean, Las Vegas doesn't even have relations with the country of Guatemala. Thus,_ crack_ OC. Along with KiwiFruit07 and our best friend, I created a family tree of all our OCs. If you wanna check it out, PM me, because FF isn't letting me put a link here._

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are absolutely loved~_

_-67OtakuGirl24X3_


	5. Chapter 4

_~Warsaw's POV_

* * *

I remember staring back at them as they left, leaving us in the pasture alone. No word of where they were going; they just left. At first, I hadn't noticed the grim expression on Paris's face as she watched me and Vegas walk a pony around the pasture, but as soon as she stood I immediately noticed. Her expression lightened as Mr. America came out, taking her inside the house. Well then. Mr. America called out to Vegas, "Vegas, bro? I'm takin' Paris out for a bit. Don't give the maids any trouble, alright?"

Vegas nodded. "KAY, DADDY." She yelled back, brushing at the horse's mane. She turned to me. "What'd he say?" I giggled, shrugging.

"Said something about taking Paris somevhere." I thought for moment, then nodded. Yes, he had definitely said that. "And also to not cause trouble vith the maids, I think." Vegas stopped brushing the mane, then she looked at me, grinning.

"_Not_ to mess with them?!" She exclaimed, then she took hold of the reigns and led the pony back to the barn. After putting the pony back in its box/home thingy, she clapped her hands twice, then dragged me inside and up the staircase to the third floor of Mr. America's large mansion. "I have this one maid friend who loves me a lot, her name is Miss Daddy's Maid. True story." My eyes widened with disbelief.

"Miss Daddy's Maid? That's a veird name."

"Like Uncle Boyfriend, right?" Vegas said, her eyes sparkling at the mere mention of her Uncle Canada.

"Uh, _tak_. Like his name." I said, shaking my head. I thought, at the time, it was a little gross that she was so in love with her uncle (who was a full grown adult) that she called him "Uncle Boyfriend". Which is just strange.

"Miss Daddy's Maid!" Vegas called, skipping down the hall. I laughed, skipping after her.

"Yes, Vegas dear?" The servant peeked her head out from a bedroom that she was cleaning, her eyebrows raised in question.

"I was just wondering if we could have a snack!" The servant girl nodded, leading us back downstairs to the main kitchen, opening the pantry and peering inside.

"What would you like, dears?"

"Skittles!" Vegas immediately said, but I gagged and shook my head.

"_Niiiie_, no Skittles. I hate those." Vegas gave me a look like I was a demon from Hell or something, her mouth wide open.

"_Warsaw_, how dare you?!"

"Vhat? I don't!" When Tatus was pregnant with me, he had a huge craving for Skittles. He ate them all the time, and long story short, I can't stand them now.

Within a few minutes of us happily munching on saltine crackers, the telephone began to ring. It trilled on until finally one of the maids had picked it up. She said, "Yes, of course!", nodded her head, then placed the telephone back down. "Girls, Paris is at the hospital wi-" Before she had the chance to finish, I jumped up from my seat.

"VHAT?! VHAT HAPPENED TO HER?!" I swear, if she was hurt in any way...

"…With her parents. Her baby sister was born, and Mr. America has asked that I take you to see them." I sat back down slowly. So the little baby was finally here, huh…Ah. Just thinking about Paris's little sister reminded me of my strong want for a baby sibling.

The maid took us to the hospital, where she asked a woman at the front desk for Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy, and the woman nodded and told us a room number. Vegas and I were soon led through many hallways and up an elevator, then down another hallway until we finally got to the room where Paris and her family were. Mr. America was standing outside the room, and smiled at the maid, thanking her for bringing us. He opened the door, motioning us in, but didn't follow.

…And there she was, sitting in a chair by the large window, swinging her legs happily. Paris had a blissful smile on her lips, just staring in the direction of Mr. England, who was sitting up in the hospital bed and feeding the new baby girl with a bottle. She turned her head when she heard the door open, and her grin only broadened. She jumped to her feet, scurrying over to us and embracing us both in turn.

"Warsaw, Vegas, look! Isn't she just _belle_?" Paris was practically bouncing on her heels, and she pointed to the baby in Mr. England's arms. Vegas gasped, rushing over to the bedside to see. I, however, was just glad that I could see Paris once again. Yes, I was happy…

…But it was mostly because _she_ was happy. Don't question me, I was like, five. But seriously, I loved her smile. I wanted her to always be happy, and I wanted her to always have that lovely smile. As cheesy as that sounds.

And well, this was one of the happiest moments we've ever experienced with each other.


End file.
